Things Are Sweeter in Tennessee
by lady scribe of avandell
Summary: Four snapshots of Dean and Jo's life after the events of No Exit. Part of my TNverse, the rest of which can be found on Livejournal.
1. Promise

Title: Promise  
Characters: Dean, Jo (Dean/Jo)  
Word Count: 710  
Summary: They were headed back out west, maybe to Nebraska or Nevada or some other equally dry and dull state in the middle of nowhere. Dean was not looking forward to it, especially since Sam was insisten that they stop at the Roadhouse and try to make amends for the last time they'd seen Ellen and Jo.  
Notes: Part one of the 4purposes prompts.

* * *

_Promise_

Spring in East Tennessee was pretty, Dean decided. He liked it. Everything was all nice and green and fresh-smelling. Pretty was a good word for it. Not that Dean would ever admit that to anyone, of course.

But everything had to come to an end at some point, and Dean and Sam were driving away from those lush green hills. They were headed back out west, maybe to Nebraska or Nevada or some other equally dry and dull state in the middle of nowhere. Dean was not looking forward to it, especially since Sam was insistent that they stop at the Roadhouse and try to make amends for the last time they'd seen Ellen and Jo.

Dean knew it needed to be done, but he really wanted to put it off as long as possible. He'd seen the pain in Jo's eyes, and he wasn't sure that she'd ever forgive them, even though they had nothing to do with her father's death. Still, Sam was right, and they'd let this sit for far too long as it was. So they packed up their things and headed to Iowa.

They ended up spending longer at the Roadhouse than they had intended. Dean didn't mind it so much; after all, it gave him time to try to rebuild his friendship with Jo. And even better than that, she seemed to want to rebuild it, too.

They started off shyly, acting more like kids in the early stages of mutual attraction than two adults who faced down ghosts and demons and werewolves for their livings. It was a dance to be certain, one with intricate moves where one tiny misstep could knock everything off balance. Slowly, they grew more comfortable with it, and eventually Dean fell into that easy confidence that he usually had around women. It wasn't quite the same, though. There was still an edge of tension, even under the jokes and laughter and smiles.

But like before, everything had to come to an end at some point, and Dean and Sam got word of a job out in Idaho, and that was that.

They had everything packed up and planned to leave first thing in the morning. Dean knew he needed to sleep, but he just couldn't. It was long past midnight (nearing three), he was wide awake, and his mind would not rest. Sighing, he finally climbed out of the cot and padded through the darkness to the barroom. At first, he thought he was alone, but then he caught a flicker of motion in a corner booth. Jo.

She didn't say anything, only stood up and came toward him. She took his hand and led him out onto the porch, where she picked up a gas lamp and a book of matches from next to the door. She lit the lamp, letting go of his hand, and beckoned for him to follow her. They moved silently through the empty fields, and Dean was beginning to think that either this was a dream or Jo was a glamour when suddenly she came to a stop at the top of a ridge.

"What is it?" Dean whispered, looking at her in the dancing lamplight.

She shrugged and smiled. "When I was a kid, I would come out here and watch the stars. I'd try to stay up the entire night, but I always fell asleep before dawn." She sat down and motioned for him to do the same. They sat in silence for a while when Jo spoke again. "I'm glad you came to see us, Dean. I thought about calling – even started dialing a few times – but I wasn't sure if you'd want to talk afer what happened." She paused. "It made winter even bleaker than usual, not knowing if you guys were okay, not knowing if you'd ever come back."

"Winter in Iowa is bleak and dreary? Really?"

Jo smiled and shoved him. "Shut up."

They fell into companionable silence again, content to stare out across the steadily lightening fields, and Jo leaned her head against Dean's shoulder. "Do you have to leave?" she asked softly when the sky was fading from neutral grey into pink.

"I wish we didn't," he answered, "but I'll be back."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	2. ForgetMeNot

**Title:** Forget-Me-Not  
**Characters:** Dean, Jo (Dean/Jo)  
**Rating:** G/PG  
**Word Count:** 674  
**Summary:** It had been a long time since he'd tried courting a girl – really, he'd only done that once, and Cassie rejected him when he told her the truth.  
**Notes:** Written for the 4purposes challenge. This is summer, and the prompt is "gave her flowers in a lightning storm." Takes place a few months after Spring. Posted on my fanfic comm, avandell. A little more than slightly AU.

* * *

_Forget-Me-Not_

It was almost midsummer. Dean's favorite time of year. At midsummer, the ghosts could be kept at bay – both the real ones and the ones in his head. Midsummer was vibrance and life and hope.

And Dean had hope. It had been a long time since he'd tried courting a girl – really, he'd only done that once, and Cassie rejected him when he told her the truth. Jo was different from Cass in that respect at least; she already knew what he was and accepted it. Embraced it, even.

Dean planned it quietly; he didn't tell Sam about it, at least not beyond spending a few days at the Roadhouse. He didn't mention the upcoming holiday, just that he wanted to do nothing but sit around and play poker and pool and pinball for a few days. He didn't say that he wanted to see Jo again. He figured Sam knew that, but it didn't mean he had to say it. Sam had nodded, then said, "Give my regards to Jo," with a smirk that Dean was fairly certain he needed to trademark so Sam couldn't use it anymore.

He arrived at the Roadhouse as the sun was setting on midsummer day. Stormclouds were rolling in and lightning flashed across the skyline as Dean pulled up. The air crackled with energy, and he felt more alive than he had in a long while. The rain was light, almost nonexistent, and Dean threw his head back and laughed into the wind. His laughter must have carried, because the screen door of the house opened and Jo stood gaping at the man dancing in the rain.

"Dean Winchester, what are you doing?" she asked him, an eyebrow raised and a smile tugging at her lips.

He grinned and walked toward her. "I'm celebrating, Jo."

"Celebrating what?" she asked. She was no longer trying to hide the smile, and her entire face lit up.

Dean was on the porch now, rain dripping along the contours of his face. He had backed Jo up against the wall, and she breathed deeply, as if trying to make herself as small as possible. "Celebrating life," he whispered, his voice soft. He kissed her soundly and suddenly leapt off the porch, back into the rain.

"Dean! Dean, wait!" Jo called before throwing her hands into the air and following after him. "You're going to get struck by lightning, you know, running around in a thunderstorm like this," she said when she finally caught up to him.

He laughed and answered, "So what?"

"So, I don't want to have to drag your crispy-fried ass all the way back to the Roadhouse, that's what."

He laughed again, throwing his head back and smiling into the sky. "Then don't," he said, putting an arm around her waist and twirling her in the air.

His good humour was infectious, and Jo found herself laughing as well. "Fine then, I won't," she told him, her grin betraying the seriousness of her voice. She kissed him on his nose, laughing at the expression on his face. "But tell me, Mr. Winchester, what brings you here? And where is your brother?"

"Sammy's lying in a ditch somewhere in South Dakota, trying to overcome his binge drinking. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to refill my collection of whiskey bottles, since he'd pretty much emptied all of them." Jo smacked Dean and he smiled at her.

"Tell the truth," she said.

"It's midsummer," he answered after a moment.

"And?"

"And nothing. That's why. It's midsummer, Jo, and it's the only day of the year that I don't have to worry about fighting the monsters under the bed." He shrugged. "I wanted to spend it with you."

Jo bit her lip and looked up at him. "Really?"

"Really." He paused. "Also," he whispered, "I wanted to give you this." His eyes glittered and he reached into his pocket. Jo looked down at the pendant he placed in her hand. It was a silver forget-me-not, hanging on a leather chain.


	3. Empty

**Title:** Empty  
**Characters:** Dean, Jo, OFC (Dean/OFC, implied Dean/Jo)  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** When he arrives at the Roadhouse, he knows immediately that something is not right. The place looks like it's closed – it always looks that way – but there's something off about it, like something (or someone) is missing.  
**Notes:** Written for the 4purposes challenge. This is the fic for fall; the prompt is "dreamers with empty hands."

* * *

_Empty_

It is November, and Dean really doesn't want to be anywhere, least of all around people he knows and who know him. He finds himself on the road to Iowa anyway.

He's not sure what sends him that way. It's a lie, and he knows it, but he likes to pretend that he's driving without a destination.

When he arrives at the Roadhouse, he knows immediately that something is not right. The place looks like it's closed – it always looks that way – but there's something off about it, like something (or someone) is missing. Dean goes to the door and finds it locked. He goes around back, thinking maybe they're just not open for the day yet, but the back door, the one that leads into the living quarters, is locked too. A knot twists itself in Dean's stomach as he picks the lock, a gun with rocksalt at his side.

The door swings open and a gun is cocked. Dean looks up, and staring back at him is Jo. She pulls the trigger and Dean wakes up.

"Dean? Are you all right?" A soft voice beckons him back to bed from where he stares out the window. He doesn't move, but he hears Kate climb out of bed and come to stand beside him. "What is it?"

"Just a nightmare," he mutters.

She puts her arms around him and whispers, "Wanna tell me about it?"

He shakes his head. "Not really."

"Alright," she says after a moment. "Are you coming back to bed?" He shrugs, and she kisses his shoulder. "I won't wait up for you then."

"Kate – " his voice sounds pained, even to his own ears. "Don't be surprised if I'm not here in the morning."

She blinks. "Where are you going, Dean?"

"Iowa. I'll be back in a few days… a week at most."

A frown creases her brow. "Dean, what's going on? What's wrong? Why Iowa?"

"I can't explain it, Kate. I – It doesn't make – I mean, I just need to do this, alright?"

She nods. "Be careful, Dean."

"I will be," he says, but there is a wild look in his eyes just the same.

When he finally reaches the Roadhouse two days later, chills run down his back and he can't help but think that the premonitions are – were – Sam's department, not his. It looks just like it did in his dream, the grass too overgrown and the windows too dusty and a general feeling of _empty_. Dean shakes his head and tries the front door. It's locked, and he has a distinct feeling of déja vu as he goes around to the back. Unsurprisingly, the back door is locked, too. Dean picks the lock with ease, and the door swings open silently. He walks in and a gun clicks behind him.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Dean Winchester," Jo says, and he turns toward her voice, his hands in the air. "What brings you here after all this time?" Her face is hard, her eyes narrowed as if she expects a lie.

Dean swallows, his eyes on the gun pointed at his chest. He answers her question quietly. "I had a dream."

"You had a dream," she repeats. Jo laughs mirthlessly. "A dream?"

"Yeah, Jo, a dream. It freaked me out. I dreamed – I dreamed that I came here and you shot me. I haven't dreamed of dying in a long time, not since…" He trails off into silence, unable to finish.

"Not since what, Dean?"

He shakes his head and says, "Not since I left it behind." He doesn't bother to clarify "it;" they both know perfectly well he means hunting.

Jo lowers the gun, and Dean lets out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. "But if you dreamed that I shot you, why did you come?" she asks, curious.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I needed to. I just… I wanted to see – I don't know," he finishes lamely. He's silent for a moment. "Where is everyone, anyway?"

She cracks her neck and nods at the small kitchen table. "Have a seat?" He sits and watches as she disappears into the barroom. She returns in a few moments with a tray with whiskey and two glasses. "The good thing about running a bar," she says, "is you don't have to worry too much about the drinks going bad."

He laughs even though it isn't very funny, but the sound is swallowed up by the emptiness of the room. Dean takes a drink and says, "So how long have you been gone?"

"After… after mom died," Jo starts, "well, I needed some time away from here. I left Ash in charge – big mistake, I know – and headed out west. I traveled around for a while, worked in bars when I needed money, and just kind of drifted. I did that for a couple years, and when I came back, Ash was gone, along with all the usuals. I've been here on my own for a while now; I thought about selling the place, but I just couldn't do it. Too many memories, I guess." She's left something out, Dean can tell, but he doesn't call her on it. He won't tell her everything, either. She looks up at him. "What about you?"

He takes a deep breath. "After the incident, I did like you did; I wandered around, no real destination, until I finally came to a stop in Tennessee. I was out of money and out of options, so I just stopped. I got a job in an auto shop, and I've been working there ever since. I have a nice little apartment over an antiques shop. Very quaint."

Jo smiles. "An antiques shop, Dean?"

He glares. "What? It's low-cost."

She nods once and then asks, "You didn't choose it because you could collect women out of the shop, did you?"

Dean chokes on his drink and coughs, "No."

"So no harem of women for Dean Winchester, once a ladies' man extraordinaire?" Her eyes glitter in amusement at the look he gives her.

He runs his hand through his hair and finally admits, "There is one. Her name's Kate. She – I – " He stops short and then continues again. "I think I might love her." He looks down at his drink and misses the way that Jo's face falls.

"Does she know?" she asks quietly.

He shakes his head. "I… The last time I told someone about my past, all I got was a slap in the face and a very cold bed." He smiles wryly. "I think Kate could handle it, but I'm not sure I have the guts to tell her that I'm a wanted fugitive, a former ghost-hunter, and oh yeah, that salt on the window sill's not to keep out the slugs."

Jo laughs at that. "I see what you mean."

"What about you?"

Jo shrugs. "I made a few…acquaintances while I was traveling, but nothing serious. Hasn't been any company recently. Haven't really been in the mood for company, anyway." She looks at him. "I missed you, you know, when I was traveling. Sometimes, I'd be in some dive that wasn't fit for a pack of dogs, and I'd think to myself, 'If Dean were here, he'd be chewing me out for being where I shouldn't.' Then I'd take another shot of tequila, play some poker, and make off with another man's well-earned fortune." She goes silent again, waiting for his reaction.

"I missed you, too," is all he says.


	4. Full Circle

**Title:** Full Circle  
**Characters:** Dean, Jo (implied Dean/Jo)  
**Rating:** G/PG  
**Summary:** She laughs bitterly. "Yeah, because every girl wants to be left with a mullet-haired drunkard in a ratty little bar just outside Nowheresville, Iowa."  
**Notes:** Written for the 4purposes challenge on livejournal. This is the final installment, winter. The prompt is "lovely, dark and deep," although I based this more on the rest of the stanza than on that particular line. The first three parts are Promise, Forget-Me-Not, and Empty (please notice that the first two parts take place several years before the third and fourth).

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep.  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep._

* * *

_Full Circle_

February finds Dean on that same lonely road in Iowa, praying that the snow chains he put on the Impala's tires won't hurt his car. He can't say what guides him here this time; there were no dreams of shotguns or promises or lovers in the summer rain. He can't say that it is the holiday season that drives his path – after all, New Year's was more than a month ago. He can't even blame it on a belated Christmas gift; he doesn't have one for her, and she wouldn't accept it if he did. Jo always did eschew conventional holidays.

When he pulls up in front of the Roadhouse, Dean is struck by the lack of change. Sure, it's all covered by a layer of snow, but it still feels just as empty as it did when he left back in November. The only real difference is the blonde head that watches him from the upstairs window.

The door opens before he gets a chance to knock, and Jo lets him inside. "I thought you might make an appearance here eventually," she says, setting out drinks.

"Oh really? And why is that?"

"Because you live in cycles, Dean. For as long as I've known you, you do everything in a circle, always coming back to the familiar eventually." She gives him a sidelong look. "The thing I want to know is why you came the day before Valentine's. Don't you have a girl waiting for you back in Tennessee?"

He shakes his head. "She left me."

She blinks. "She what?"

"She left me. I was… I was gonna propose – had the ring and everything – and a week ago, I woke up to an empty bed and a note on the door." He takes a long draught of his drink. "It said that she'd found the ring, but she didn't want it. Wasn't ready for that kind of commitment."

"Isn't that ironic?" Jo mutters, more to herself than to Dean.

He glances sharply at her. "What do you mean?"

She answers quietly, as if she has just realized what a dangerous subject this topic is. "Nothing. Just… Kind of humbling to be on the fuzzy end of the lollipop every now and then, isn't it?"

"Again, what do you mean?"

"Someone not being ready for a commitment? Someone else waking up to an empty bed and a note that amounts to 'I just don't love you that much'? Come on, Dean, you can't say you've never done that before."

His jaw clenches; he knows she's right. "Dammit, Jo, why're you doing this to me?"

"What do you mean why am I doing this to you? I'm not doing anything to you. You're the one who invited yourself here."

"You know what I mean," he growls.

She snorts. "Maybe I should ask you the same thing. Why do you do this to me? I've tried to move on, Dean, but everywhere I go, I think of you. I drove all across the country trying to escape my memories of you, but it didn't work. You didn't understand it then, and I doubt you understand it now, but dammit, Dean, I was in love with you, and you left me to face my mother's death and Sam's… disappearance alone."

"I – you – " he falters. "It wasn't like that, Jo, and you know it. Besides, you had Ash."

"Oh, right, I had Ash." She laughs bitterly. "Yeah, because every girl wants to be left with a mullet-haired drunkard in a ratty little bar just outside Nowheresville, Iowa."

Dean is silent for a while and then says quietly, "I thought it was what you wanted."

"What?"

"I thought…" He rubs his face with his hands. "I thought you wanted to stay here. Like maybe the familiar would keep you feeling safe or something. If I'd known…"

"If you'd known?" she prompts when he doesn't finish.

"I would have taken you with me," he says in a rush. "But I thought – you were so angry, Jo, I didn't know what to do. I mean, the last time you were that upset, you dismissed me completely, and we didn't talk for months. I decided to give you some time, to put the pieces back together or whatever it is normal people do when they're mourning the dead." He laughs shortly. "I suppose I gave you too much time. I came back, a few months later, but the place was abandoned. I banged on the door, even picked the lock, but there was only a layer of dust and I thought you'd moved on." He swallows. "It wasn't until a few months ago, back in November, that I even thought about checking the place out again. I probably never would have come if it hadn't been for those dreams."

"Dreams?" she asks, genuinely surprised.

Dean nods. "I told you about the one I had where you shot me for coming back, but there were others, Jo. They weren't distorted futures, though; they were the past. When Sam and I first came back after…" he hesitates, "you learned the truth about your dad. And that time in the summer when I came here alone."

"When you danced around in that thunderstorm like a madman?" she asks, smiling.

"Yeah." He grins. "I was a stupid bastard, wasn't I?"

Jo shrugs. "It was sweet."

They lapse into silence.

Jo asks suddenly, "Are you going back to Tennessee?"

Dean shrugs. "I haven't decided. Not sure if I want to stay in that apartment anymore."

"I've never been to East Tennessee," Jo says. "Drove through Nashville a few times and spent a couple weeks in Memphis, but I never made to the east side of the state. I hear the mountains are beautiful when the leaves change."

He smiles, a faraway look in his eyes. "It's best in the spring, when everything is all green and fresh, but autumn is nice, too."

"I'd like to see it sometime."

"Would you?" he asks. "We could – I mean, there's plenty of room in the Impala, and the apartment has two bedrooms, if you want to visit."

"I would love to, Dean," she answers, and he believes it.


End file.
